


Dance With Me

by L122ytorch



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dancing, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-30 05:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12646830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L122ytorch/pseuds/L122ytorch
Summary: I encourage a friend of mine who is terrified of letting go and having a good time on the dance floor. We practice a little before going out, but everyone involved got more than they bargained for.





	Dance With Me

If there’s one thing I’m good at. Really, really, really good at. It’s dancing.

I can fucking dance. And I’m pretty proud of that fact considering how incredibly white I am. I think what makes me a good dancer is fearlessness, rhythm, and a great familiarity with my body. Throw on TrapCity and I’ll go club on you so fast it’ll make your head spin.

Sure, a Manhattan makes the moves smoother, but I can dead-ass drop it, even 100% sober. There is no ounce of self consciousness in my soul when the music is up and I’m down. 

It’s not something my “friends” ever guess about me. There’s a lot about me that tends to surprise them. Most don’t guess that I have tattoos, that I’m a dead shot at the gun range (or that I even have a gun), that I can deftly drive a motorcycle, that I can draw anything, that I can DJ, that I can drop a 200 lb man with some sick Shotokan moves, and most don’t realize the skills my mouth possess beyond just being a smart ass. So at a friend’s house this weekend, I pulled out one of my surprises.

Lindsey confessed to me that she couldn’t dance. We had migrated away from the group in the living room and ended up talking to one another in a game room. I set my matte black Bell Revolver helmet down on a coffee table next to my phone and a Beat’s pill. 

I started off with Raiden’s Heart of Steel - the trap city remix, and just started dancing. Lindsey looked at me with thinly veiled abject horror. Her eyes shifted nervously to the door but none of our other friends breached our inner sanctum. 

I could see the protest in her eyes before even asking her to dance. I slipped into the languid fluidity of the music and yanked her to her feet. 

“Where...where on earth did you learn how to dance?” she stood stock still as I slinked around her. 

“College...dances...my bedroom,” I confessed. I grabbed at her wrists but I could feel her self consciousness rolling off of her in waves. “You know how I won that bet last month?” she asked, changing the subject so fast I nearly got whiplash. “Yeah...?” “I want...I want to cash in.”

I smiled deviously. I knew that Lindsey had a thing for me. We were friends but there was always this taut electric tension that thrummed between us. “Name it,” I slid closer to her once more, probably shooting her the same glance that a hungry lioness would gaze at a gazelle with.

“I want you to dance for me.”

“I am dancing for you dipshit,” I couldn’t suppress the grin. 

“I know...I, uh, I want you to pick a song and...not force me to dance, but just kind of...dance around me?”

“Are you asking for a fucking lap dance L?” 

“No! No! Definitely not!” 

“Thou dost protesteth too much,” I licked my lips. My question had the exact effect I was going for. A wine red blush stained her cheeks and slid down her neck. I bet if the music were off and I strained hard enough I’d be able to hear her heartbeat. 

“As you wish L,” I walked over to my phone and scrolled through my songs until I found the perfect one. Blackbear’s “do re mi,” the Tarro Remix. 

About to begin dancing for real, I surveyed the room, looked at what I had to work with, took stock of the space I had to move. I was wearing my long black trench coat that cost as much as two month’s worth of rent in Houston. It was the splurge of the century but soft as a cloud. Beneath it, a burgundy blouse clung to my body and descended down to black trousers. 

Overdressed, as always. In Keith’s house, the living room just a hop skip and a jump away, occupied by six of our friends. The night outside was breathtakingly cold but a well fed fire made the game room glow orange.

Enough stalling, I mentally chided myself, sliding my thumb over ‘play’ and listening for the familiar words.

I started far enough away but started slinking towards her in a half walk, half dance. There was no stopping myself once I was on a roll, and before I knew it, I was circling her like a vulture, dipping and twisting, mouthing the words, desperate to sing them myself. 

The look on her face was priceless. Hazel eyes gone wide, in lust or shock or something...I didn’t have time to analyze, I couldn’t focus on shimmering coral colored lips parted and conveying the same emotion that her eyes did.

I knew I’d regret it in the morning but I leaned back and down in a move that would probably snap the average back. And continued my affair with physics, straining my legs with dips, snapping my hips too fast, moving painfully slowly face to face with L before whipping around her, my front pressed to her back. 

The whole thing was rather salacious, dare I even say lecherous. My finger pulling her face forward, hooded eyes drawing nearer until I placed a hand on her chest and shoved her back, the backs of her knees catching on a love seat. 

I guess this was a lap dance after all. Minus the stripping...although I had one hell of a bra on. All navy and aqua and lace that harshly rubbed at the fabric of my silk blouse so much so that a stranger could probably trace the pattern of it through my shirt.

Wholesome Lindsey. Corruptive Lizzy. Dancing like the music had suspended my sanity. The fabric of the chair felt so foreign beneath my hands and contrasted L so beautifully. Whenever my knees began to complain, I moved back and pulled her up again with me, finishing the song in a manner so completely...typical. L pulled against me, a wicked grin beaming in response to her still apparent shock. 

The song faded but I still swayed, as if the jarring beat had left tremors in their wake that I had to respond to. Her breathing was hard and fast, despite the fact that I did all of the dancing. My jacket now felt stifling, so I slipped it off and tossed it in the direction of the chair. 

And equally badass song took the place of the last one and just as I was ready to get back into it, to encourage L to dance this time, I noticed her glance fly past me. I turned in the direction she was looking and saw two of our guy friends standing in the door. 

Keith and Zach were transfixed, superglued to their respective spots and exuding the, ‘oh shit, I just got caught sneaking a cookie before dinner,’ look. “How long have you been standing there?” Lindsey asked, a shake threaded through her voice.

The boys exchanged a furtive glance and Zach finally opened his mouth to spill out some lie. “Not long,” he shifted. His dishonesty grated against my nerves and threatened to tug at my anger. I walked towards him with my deadliest gaze. 

“C’mon Z, it’s obvious that you’re lying. I’m guessing you watched my whole dance for Lindsey. So why lie about it?” I was standing far too close to him, invading his personal space, making him uncomfortable, but backing up would only bring him to the wall. 

I don’t know what it is about this group, but they make me crave dominance. I felt high on confidence, it thrummed through my pulse and seeped out of my words and stood sharp as a razor blade in my hard gaze. 

“I...I didn’t want to say I had watched you because...I...didn’t want to embarrass you...”

A cold laugh ricocheted past my throat before I could stop it. “Oh Zach...I once peed in a trashcan in front of thirty people, there’s little you could say or do that would embarrass me.” 

I watched a myriad of unspoken questions and fleeting emotions flit across his features. He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. “If you want to watch, watch,” I stated matter-of-factly. “Nobody likes a voyeur,” I pushed him towards a large sofa and pulled Keith along for the ride too. 

Now Linds was way out of her comfort zone. DSG’s “Hide the Flow” was next on the menu and I stalked back to my friend who hadn’t moved from her spot in front of the fireplace. 

She had made the last bet, the one I lost, and I was prepared to propose a counter proposition. I leaned into her left ear, visually shielded from the guys and spoke into her ear. “I’ll make you a deal L,” I paused, trying to carefully select my words. It was like trying not to scare a skittish mare. “If you dance to the next song I put on, dance to it with me, in front of the guys, and get over your fear of dancing...I’ll kiss you.” 

I could feel her body go rigid in front of mine. She had always liked me a bit more than I liked her but she’d never cop to it. I always saw those damn hazel eyes raking down my body, admiring how my form had changed from chub to cut, following the flow of fabric of my newest clothes. Mostly, the hazel orbs lingered on my lips. I could always feel her eyeing the little scar on my top lip, it was hardly noticeable, most people missed it completely, but she didn’t.

“It’ll be a real kiss, a deep kiss, one that exhibits every ounce of skill I possess. A mind-melter.” My hands were atop her shoulders as I spoke, and hers had balled up the fabric of my shirt at my waist. It was a nice shirt, one that I was already sweating into, but I didn’t complain, I liked the heat of her hands, the stretch of the cloth pulling at my back. 

I pulled away and was met with an almost drunk expression. I could practically hear the internal battle; hear herself ask...is a kiss with Lizzy worth abject humiliation? Apparently it was, because she took a deep breath in and nodded.


End file.
